Better Than Me
by Eriana10
Summary: He was never good enough for her; he had always known that. She was the epitome of everything wholesome and good in the world, and he, well, he was anything but. At least that's what his head was saying; now he just had to get his heart to agree. A one shot about our favorite assassin and his beloved Warden.


~~AN~~ This is a one-shot that I've been mulling over for some time now. The title and theme are based on the Hinder song "Better Than Me," and it has been Zevran therapy during my recent writing drought.

He was never good enough for her; he had always known that. She was the epitome of everything wholesome and good in the world, and he, well, he was anything but. At least that's what his head was saying; now he just had to get his heart to agree. A one shot about our favorite assassin and his beloved Warden.

I really miss your hair in my face.

And the way your innocence tastes

And I think you should know his

You deserve much better than me

-0-

"Better Than Me"

Zevran stood at the window, watching as the wind whipped through the trees in Alistair's private gardens. They had been staying in the castle for a few months as personal guests of King Alistair himself, but it still felt like a rare treat, spending the night indoors rather than in their well-worn tents, exposed to the harsh Ferelden elements. As he listened to the howling wind and the gentle patter of rain on the window, Zevran felt extremely grateful for the sturdy walls of the castle. Not that he had any difficulty keeping warm on those cold nights, but it was nice not to have to worry about freezing to death or waking up to wet, frizzy hair. A warm palace and a warm body beside him, ahh, it was glorious. A sound from across the room pulled Zevran from his thoughts about the weather as his Warden, Neria Surana, slipped into their room.

"Ah, my dear Warden," he said, crossing the room and taking the beautiful elven woman into his arms, "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to break away from all those boring nobles and join me here tonight. Ah, those noble men, so fond of my beautiful little hero." He smiled down at her, gently caressing her face for a moment before tucking a raven lock of hair behind her slender, elegant ear, relishing the way she shivered in his arms when he brushed, ever so lightly, against her ear.

She looked up at him, a hand resting lightly on his chest, "Oh, Zev, where else would I be? Besides, you shouldn't have abandoned me like that, surrounded by all those stuffy nobles; you really are evil, you know that," she said, playfully slapping his chest.

"Hum, am I really? So what is the pure and perfect Hero of Ferelden doing with someone so evil, then?" he teased as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. "What was I to do, anyway? You were so completely surrounded by your admirers, and I was just in the way there. So, I thought you would like having something waiting for you in your room, something that you may actually be looking forward to tonight," he said as he ran a hand down her side, lightly brushing against her breast through the thin fabric of the dress she was wearing. The soft sound that escaped her lips was a cross between a whimper and a moan. "Ahh, there's that sound; now, who could resist such a seductive little purr." Neria looked up at him, a bright blush coloring her porcelain cheeks. "And when it is coupled with this delightful hue," he sighed, caressing her cheek, "it's a wonder suitors are not lined up at our door."

She giggled and batted his hand away, "Oh, hush, Zev. I can't believe you think I'd look forward to such teasing. Is there nothing more you wish to do for me?"

Zevran laughed. "Indeed," he said pulling her close, his lips seeking out hers as her arms wound around him. Somehow, Zevran wasn't quite sure how exactly, the two of them made it to the bed, clothing and boots shed along the way. As his hands moved over her familiar curves, Zevran admired her smooth porcelain skin, marred here and there by a few scars, a kind of road map of their past year together, shimmering in the dim lights of the candles. Her emerald green eyes, framed by a curtain of dark eyelashes stared up at him passionately. Delicate, pointed ears peeked out from the long raven locks that framed her delicate face. Neria Surana was perfect, and for a time, she was his, in his arms, her supple, petite body warm against his as he looked into her beautiful eyes.

Zevran's mouth left her lips making his way down her jaw line, nibbling her neck as he worked his way lower. He buried his face in her long, dark hair, savoring the unique smell of her, a strange combination of flowers and ice with a touch of lyrium, a smell he had come to adore over their months together. His lips continued their journey down her body, pausing briefly at each of her perfectly formed breasts before making their way across her flat stomach.

"Zevran, oh, Maker, Zevran," she gasped, biting her lip to keep from giggling as his lips danced across her stomach. After months together, he knew her every curve, every sensitive spot that would make her giggle, as well as every spot that would make her shiver in pleasure. He moved over her body, worshiping her as reverently with his lips and his hands. He felt her fingers lace into his hair as she gently reached pulled his face toward hers. "Zevran," she whispered as her lips traced the sensitive tips of his ears, "I need you…please."

How could anyone resist such a plea? Instantly, Zevran was in her, filling her completely, savoring it felt to be inside her. Neria's head rolled back as a soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips. He was still inside her for a moment, simply taking in the sight, the smell, the feel of the elven mage beneath him. Then she began to move, thrusting her hips up to him, driving him somehow deeper into her. It took every conscious part of him mind to keep him from losing it right then and there, but slowly gaining control of all his faculties, he began to move in slow, sensual thrusts. Neria breathed his name, the warmth of her breath tickling his neck as they began to move in unison, bringing each other to the heights of pleasure. After months of being together, it never failed to amaze him just how much he still enjoyed her company. Somehow, every time felt like the first time, but infinitely better. Gone was the timid, inexperienced mage, who had first shyly accepted his invitation into his tent. No, this woman was truly a sex goddess, fiery, passionate, and with an insatiable hunger for him, a hunger he never cared to sate. In all honesty, he was just as hungry for her. Never once in all their months together had he turned away, never once had he strayed, though the opportunity had presented itself to him many times. He was hers, and together, they were something special.

Collapsing beside her, Zevran took a moment to regard his young lover. Here in the dim light of the candles, she looked almost child-like in her sweet innocence, petite and fragile, even for an elf. He smiled to himself and threw an arm around her, drawing her slight body close to his. Casually, he traced small, intricate patterns across her stomach as he breathed in the sweet smell of her soft, silky hair.

"Zevran," she said, looking up to him, her eyes dark in the dim light of the room. "I'll be heading to Amaranthine in a few months, and I was wondering…"

"Yes, my pet."

"I was wondering what your plans might be. Will you be staying here in Denerim or…" she stopped as if she were trying to put the right words together, "…or do you think you may want to travel?"

"Travel, hum, and where might I want to travel. There is so much of Ferelden that I have yet to see," he teased. "I could start in Highever and then make my way down to the Hinderlands to Garwen. I hear it is lovely this time of year."

Neria slapped his hand and rolled over to face him, "Seriously, though, is there a possibility that you may want to come with me?"

Zevran smiled and kissed her eyelids lightly before finding her lips, "My beautiful mageling, where else would I want to be?"

She smiled and nuzzled her head against his chest. "I love you, Zevran," she whispered quietly up to him as she drifted off to sleep. "I love you….love you…love…

-0-

Zevran sat up abruptly, the sound of Neria's voice still echoing in his ears, the smell of her still lingering in the air. Groaning to himself, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and gently massaged his temples, trying to shake the all too vivid memory from his head, trying not to remember the taste of her on his lips. He glanced over at woman in his bed; she was beautiful, passionate, and experienced, everything he could possibly want in a partner, but it wasn't enough. They were never enough because none of them ever quite measured up to the one he had lost.

Four years, it had been four years since he had left her in Ferelden, and he could still taste her kisses on his lips, the curious combination of honey and lyrium. He was still dreaming of her as if she was still there, as if he was still with her. Hastily pulling on his clothes, Zevran made his way to the window, hoping the warm Antivan air would help to clear his head. Shouldn't he be over this by now? Shouldn't he be able to move on? He was the one who left her after all.

He sighed and leaned on the balcony's railing, watching the waves of the Amaranthine Ocean dance in the moonlight. Yes, he had been the one to leave, to abandon her without warning, but it wasn't because he didn't care for her. Quite the opposite if he was being honest with himself, but it wasn't often he allowed himself to be honest these days. Tonight, however, tonight was different. It wasn't that he dreamed of her; no, that was a rather normal occurrence, something that happened almost weekly. But the other dreams had been different, dreams of her coming to him in Antiva or of him returning to her in Amaranthine, something that his subconscious conjured to sate his lingering desire for her. No, this one was different, a memory of one of their last nights together; and not just any night, either, of the night that changed everything.

On some level, he knew that his Warden had come to love him; she had said as much at the gates of Denerim, just before she and Riordan left to face the Archdemon. But professions of love are easy to give when there's a good chance one or both of you will die in the subsequent hours, and they're even easier to accept. Hearing her say it in the calm of that night, Zevran was forced to come to terms with her feelings for him, feelings that he had never intended for her to develop. It wasn't that he didn't care for her; he did, with more depth than he believed he would ever be capable of. In his heart and in his mind, he knew that this thing between them wasn't merely physical; he had moved beyond just savoring the moment and taking his pleasure where he could find it. He had feelings for her, feelings he had no right to have.

She was perfect, his Neria, fresh from the circle tower with an open and innocent outlook on the world. She had blushed furiously when at their first meeting, the meeting where she had spared his life against the protests of her companions, when he casually suggested that he could warm her bed and fend off suitors. That blush, one of the many things that Zevran came to adore about his Warden, would light up her face every time he would flirt with her, when others would talk about him, and especially when he would catch her staring at him. She had been awkward and inexperienced during their initial lovemaking, but she learned quickly and, with his constant attention, had grown into a sensual and passionate lover. But regardless of how many nights they spent together, she still somehow maintained that air of innocence that undoubtedly drew Zevran to her like a moth to a flame.

Not only that, but Neria was among the most kind and virtuous people he had ever met. She was always willing to offer her services to any and all in need, yet she managed to do it all without allowing herself to be pulled down into the muck where so many of those down-trodden souls dwelled. She refused to take the easy way out by dealing with criminals and miscreants, and she was generous to a fault. In short, she was everything that he was not, and how she managed to fall for him, Zevran could never figure. What did she ever see in him, the whoreson, the murder, the deviant? How could someone so virtuous and pure ever have feelings for someone like him? She should be with someone who was better for her, someone with her morality, her sense of right and wrong, someone who could give her the things he never could. She could do so much better than him; she deserved someone better than him. That was why he left her in the first place. He was never worthy of her affections, and that was even more obvious now that she was so loved and admired as the hero of the nation. With him out of the way, Neria would be free to find someone more worthy of her affections.

Leaving her had been harder than Zevran could have imagined. He tried to tell himself it was because he felt guilty for leaving her with no warning, without giving her a reason why. He tried telling himself that he would get over his feelings, that they were just a response to physical attraction, a comfortable habit after so much time together, nothing more. After all, he was an assassin, and assassins know better than to develop feelings of that kind of depth. He tried to tell himself that she would be better off without him. He tried to make himself believe he was doing the right thing for both of them, and four years later, he was still trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing. After four years of meditating on those facts, on some level, he should believe it, so why didn't he? Why wasn't he able to move on, to forget her? Why after four years was she still visiting him in his dreams, calling to him from across the sea?

Maybe it was about closure. Leaving the way that he did, stealing away in the dead of night, was not exactly a definitive end to a relationship, after all. Perhaps that was his problem, a lack of closure. Maybe he needed to see her one last time, to make sure all was well with her, to make sure she had found some happiness for herself; his stomach knotted at his last thought, to make sure she found love again. He had heard that there had been some troubles with the Wardens in Amaranthine and that she had overcome them beautifully, but the bards and traders did not often speak of Neria herself unless they were recounting her heroics from the past. Seeing her again might just be what he needed to silence the doubts that had been plaguing him for the last four years. He could do it; his position over the Crows was strong enough that he could leave his underlings in charge long enough for him to journey back to Ferelden to see her once more. In fact, he could be on a boat by the day after tomorrow; he could see her within a week. A sudden resolve stirred in him; he would return to Ferelden and silence these dreams and doubts once and for all. He will prove to himself that he doesn't feel for her and that leaving was the right thing. He just needed to see her one more time, and all would resolve itself. Somehow.

-0-

Ferelden was exactly as he had remembered it. Well, the smell of it was exactly as he had remembered at least, wet dog, and when coupled with the smell of the Amaranthine wharf, it made for a rather unpleasant concoction of odors. Strange that such a foul odor could conjure such powerful emotions. It was like she was already there beside him once again. He made his way into the city, noting the changes that had been made since the last time he had visited during Howe's reign. Before there was a feeling of discontent about the city, but now, there was a prevailing peace that seemed to permeate every man, woman, and child living there.

He spent the first two days simply getting a feel for the city, talking to merchants and shopkeepers under the guise of a traveling merchant looking to set up trade agreements in the city. From them, he learned a few surprising things. It seemed that in the months after her arrival, his Warden had saved the entire arling from an intelligent darkspawn that called himself the Architect, and that she and a handful of Wardens had defended the city from a massive horde that nearly leveled it. She had stubbornly refused to abandon the town, even when others believed it hopelessly lost, and as a result, the entire arling was absolutely enamored with her. Not only that, but she had also survived an assassination attempt arranged by several of her vassals. Zevran's stomach had clinched when he heard that bit of news, remembering how close Taliesin had come to killing her during the last assassination attempt against her.

On his third day there, Zevran was sitting outside the local tavern, making casual conversation with the inn keeper's wife, Mira, who oversaw the wait staff and the kitchen. He had purposefully waited until the lunch rush was over so that he could talk to the woman without being interrupted by the needs of her patrons. Casually, he brought up Neria, hoping that the woman had some new information on his Warden.

"Lady Neria? Well, yes ser, I know her quite well. She usually stops here to eat whenever she visits Amaranthine, as a matter of fact. What a nice lady the arlessa is; we sure are lucky to have the likes of her here, I'll tell you that. Everyone here just loves her. You do know that she defeated the archdemon, right?"

Zevran nodded, "I've heard the tales. Stories of her conquests against the darkspawn have spread throughout Thedas, but little is said about the lady herself. What is she like?"

"Oh, like I said, young man, she's a wonderful lady; always trying to help out those less fortunate, running herself ragged trying to solve everyone's problems for them. You know she does so much for the city that the Revered Mother is actually singing her praised, and considering that she's a mage, that's really saying something. I thought we might have some problems from the Chantry there for a while, but once she saved the city…well, like I said, everyone loves her. It's like she can do no wrong." The round little woman plopped down beside him. "You know, I thought she'd burn herself out, trying to do so much. It's a good thing she has the arl there to help her out."

Zevran had to work to keep the surprised look off his face. "The arl?"

Mira laughed, "That's right, I didn't mention the arl, did I?" Zevran shook his head. "Well, Arl Howe has been a gift from the Maker for her."

"Arl Howe?" Zevran was unable to keep the surprise from his voice this time. "I'm sorry, I thought the Warden killed Arl Howe during the blight; that's what the stories say at least."

She nodded, "That she did, lad, but that was Rendon Howe, Maker take him far away; we are lucky to be rid of him." She shook her head. "He was a bad man. No, I'm talking about Nathaniel, his son."

"I'm…confused. Did his son come back and overthrow the Wardens?"

"Oh, Andraste bless him, no, Nathaniel Howe is a Warden now, has been for years, ever since our lady caught him trying to break into the Keep." Mira laughed to herself. "The story says that Howe threatened to kill her, so she forced him to join the Grey Wardens instead."

Zevran shook his head. Well, that did sound like something Neria would do. She had a bad habit of not killing people who wanted to kill her. "So, if he didn't overthrow the Wardens, then how did he become…"

"Why he married her, of course. Marry an arlessa and you become an arl, right?"

Zevran felt his stomach drop. Married? She was married? His reaction to this news took him by surprise. After all, isn't that what he wanted, to find her happy, to find that she had moved on? "Does she seem happy with him?" he heard himself ask before he could stop himself.

Mira laughed again, "Oh, I would say so. She just lights up whenever he's around. They got married right over there in the Chantry," she said, pointing to the massive brick building across the street, "then they all came over here for the reception. Most of the arling turned out to watch them and wish them well."

Zevan forced a small smile. "Sounds lovely," he managed to say before asking for another drink. As Mira hustled off to get it, Zevran leaned back in his seat, staring out into the bustle of activity in the street. What did he expect after all this time? Did he honestly expect her to be there pining for him still? Was that what he wanted? The more selfish side of his brain, the side that was plotting to take her back Antiva with him, said yes.

As he was sitting there, trying to digest the news that his Warden was married, and to a Howe no less, a small band of warriors, their armor adorned with an all too familiar griffon logo strolled into the tavern, talking excitedly to each other. Behind them walked the woman he had crossed the ocean to see. She looked different, harder somehow. Gone was the innocence and naïveté that had so defined her in the past. In its place there was an air of confidence and experience, but her eyes still shone with the same passion and tenderness that he had loved (loved?) about her.

She was standing across the way from him, leaning against the wall of the Chantry as she talked to a fellow Warden. It was clear that she was giving the man some kind of order because the soldier was looking intently at her, nodding as she spoke. Then a grin crossed both their faces as she patted him on the shoulder before they parted ways. Zevran turned his eyes back on his meal, watching her from his periphery. He was disguised and was sure she wouldn't recognize him as long as he didn't meet her eye, so he was free to watch her from his small table in the corner. Though there were many things about his Warden that had changed over the last four years, it was clear that she was still the same affectionate, compassionate woman he had come to adore.

As he sat there, watching her as she spoke with various townspeople, addressing many of them by name, kneeling to speak to children, laughing with housewives, that he began to realize that he had been lying to himself all these years. His feelings for her hadn't been simple affection or base attraction; no, his feelings had been much deeper than that. He loved her. He had loved her then, and he loved her now. Seeing her again after all these years cemented in his mind the truth that his heart had known all along. That was why he had never been able to move past her, why she still haunted his dreams and consumed his thoughts. He loved her, and like a fool, he had left her behind.

"I should go to her," he thought to himself. "Throw myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness." With sudden resolve, he turned in his seat and was about to get up and approach her when a tall man with long, dark hair swooped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist and planting a kiss just beneath her ear. Neria smiled and turned in the man's embrace, throwing her arms around his neck as she drew him down for a kiss. Zevran froze, his eyes fixed on the scene before him. Nathaniel Howe, the husband, how could have he forgotten? Neria was no longer his Warden; she now belonged to someone else. He was too late.

The Antivan assassin sat there, dumbly watching as the two Wardens talked, Neria's eyes never leaving her husband's face. Howe's cautious eyes, on the other hand, were in constant movement, lighting on his wife's face for a moment before scanning the area around them for trouble. To him, the behavior was quite familiar, after all, a good rogue is always on alert. Somehow, Howe's caution made Zevran feel better. Neria's had always been rather oblivious of her surroundings; it was good that she had someone to look after her.

Neria's though didn't seem to see it that way. After a few minutes if it, she took Nathaniel's face in her hands and smiled up at him, shaking her head as she spoke to him, clearly chiding him for not focusing on her. Natahniel cocked his head and shrugged slightly, a broad grin spreading over his face. Neria laughed in response and took his arm to let him lead her away.

Zevran watched them leave with a heavy heart. Wasn't this what he had wanted when he left her, for her to move on, to find someone better? Wasn't that the whole reason he left. Shouldn't he be happy? Then why was he devistated? Why did seeing that man with his arm wrapped securely around Neria's waist make him want to cross the courtyard and forcibly separate them? Suddenly the reason was clear. Nathaniel had everything Zevran wanted, everything he had once had and had foolishly given away. Nathaniel had picked up what he had do carelessly thrown aside, and now it was too late for him. Zevran had lost, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Choking back the bile that was rising in his stomach, Zevran turned back to the table in front of him and pulled out some parchment and a quill. Once he was finished, he sealed the letter and waved Mira over, giving her a few brief, simple instructions before thrusting the letter and a hand full of gold into her hand. Mira agreed and asked if there was anything else he needed. Zevran almost laughed out loud at the questions. Oh if she only knew, but everything he needed he had already given up. Shaking his head, he thanked the portly woman for her help and disappeared into the market heading for the docks. It was time to leave this country behind once and for all.

-0-

Laughing happily, Neria and Nathaniel made their way into the Crown and Lion to meet up with the rest of the Wardens who were heading back to Vigil's Keep that evening. Once they were inside, Nathaniel pulled the ebony-haired elf into a corner, pulling her body against his. "I wish we could just get a room here for the night," he whispered lustily into her hear, eliciting a delicious giggle from the young mage. "Three months is simply too long to be away from you, dear wife."

Neria grinned up at her husband and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. "I know, Love, and trust me, I am just as eager to get you alone, but you know how I hate spending the night away from the Keep. Besides, I'm not the only one who has missed you."

"What? Oghren been pining after me, too?" Neria laughed, smacking the rogue's chest before leading him over to the rest of the group who were all shouting and catcalling their commander and her husband.

"So," she said, grabbing Sigrun's tankard from the table and taking a long drink, "how many are staying the night and how many are coming home?" About half the Wardens said they'd be staying, while most who had just returned from the scouting mission opted to return to the keep.

"I just want my own room and my own bed. Three months on the road is plenty for me, thank you," one of the knights pointed out.

"Alright, I'll pay for the rooms for tonight, then we'll head out. Now, has anyone seen Mira?"

"Right here, my Lady," the inn keeper said as she made her way over to the Warden table. "I'll have those rooms made up for you right away. Oh, and before I forget, I have something for you."

"Thank you, Mira," Neria said, taking the letter and looking over it. "Who is this from?"

"A nice young merchant left that for you this afternoon. I think he was interested in setting up a store here in the market, but I guess he didn't get a chance to talk to you directly. He asked me to pass this along to you the next time you stopped in," Mira said sweetly as she began clearing the finished drinks on the table.

Curious, Neria broke the seal and began to read the letter. "Oh by the fade spirits," the elf gasped, dropping down to the seat beside her as she quickly read the letter. "Nathaniel, look."

The Warden rogue reached down to take the note from his wife, his steely gray eyes dancing quickly across the paper.

_My Dear Warden,_

_It has been several years since I departed, leaving you without warning, without explanation, and without as sense of closure. It was wrong of me to depart in such a manner, and for that I apologize. I believed that I was doing what was best for you, giving you a clean break, but I realize now that I was acting for my own good, not yours. For many years, I had convinced myself that I left because I believed that you deserved better than anything that I would be able to give you, that by leaving you as I did, I would give you the chance to find someone better. Though I believe that still, I have finally admitted to myself that that was not the ultimate reason for my departure. I was simply cowardly. Can you believe it? I who willingly faced down dragons at your side was afraid to face down the possibility of a future there. _

_I see now that I was always right; you did deserve better. Better than a man who allowed his own fears to drive him from the best thing that had ever happened to him. I believed that I would grow past those feelings; seeing you has made me realize that I have not. However, fate is a tricky whore it seems because I only realized the gravity of my mistake when it was too late to do anything about it. You have done as I hoped you would. You found another, someone far better than me in every way. I can only hope that he makes you happy in ways that I never could._

_Nathaniel, if you are reading this, and I'm sure you are, take care or her. She is a treasure, and I was a fool to cast her aside so flippantly. Don't make my mistake because you will live the rest of your life as I will, regretting it every single day. Be the man she deserves._

_Zevran Arainai_

"Mira, where did you say you got this letter?" he demanded, turning to look at the shell-shocked waitress.

"A merchant who was in here today left this for the Arlessa. Why is something wrong?"

"What did he look like?"

"He was an elf, a bit taller than most but still smaller than a human. He had dark hair brown hair and amber eyes. He sat just outside most of the afternoon."

"Brown hair you say?" Nathaniel asked, looking at his dazed wife. "He may have dyed it so he wouldn't sand out. He could still be at the docks; I could try to catch him before he leaves."

Neria looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You would do that?"

"He has a right to know. Come on, if we hurry, we may be able to catch him before the boat leaves for Antiva."

"Antiva you say?" a dock worker in the table beside them said, looking over at the Wardens. "There was only one ship leaving for Antiva today, my Lord. I'm afraid to say you missed it; it set sell just over an hour ago."

Nathaniel glanced down at his wife who just shook her head. "It's fine; in fact, maybe it's better this way. If he cared at all he wouldn't have left the way he did." She took her husband's hand and smiled up at him, tossing the piece of paper on the table behind them. "Let's go home."

Nathaniel smiled and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head before leading her out of the tavern to the carriage that was waiting to take them back to the Keep. The other Wardens sat quietly, looking at each other in silence for a moment as Sigrun grabbed the letter. "Oh, it's from him?"

"Him who?"

"Zevran."

Around the table, several of the Wardens nodded in understanding while confusion still showed on the faces of some of the newer members of the Order. "I don't understand," one of them said, "who is Zevran?"

Sigrun sighed and took a long drink from her tankard. "Zevran is Evelyn's father."

-0-

The moment Nathaniel walked through the doors of the keep, he was greeted with a squeal of excitement as a tiny four year old girl threw herself into his arms, excitedly planting kisses all over the laughing rogue's face. Without pausing, Nathaniel scooped the child up into his arms and spun her around, looking down into her bright green eyes. Smiling at her, he tucked a tendril of dirty blond hair behind her slender tapered ears.

"Daddy, you're home!" Evelyn squealed happily, giggling as Nathaniel kissed each of her cheeks. "You're here to stay, right? You're not leaving any time soon, are you; I mean you're home for good, right?"

"I'm home Sweet Pea. I missed you," he whispered into her ear. "Were you a good girl for your mommy?"

Evelyn nodded enthusiastically. "Um-hum. I've been eating my vegetables and washing my face and everything. Did you kill lots of baddies?"

"I sure did," he said, putting her on the ground and ruffling her hair. "Have you taken your bath yet tonight?" The elven girl shook her head. "Well, why don't we get Nana to give you a bath while I wash up, and then I'll tell you all about my adventures while I tuck you in. Does that sound good?"

"Okay, Daddy," she said, kissing him again on the cheek. "I'll be super fast so you'll have plenty of time to tell me everything." She turned to run to her quarters, but before she had taken a few steps, she turned back and ran back to Nathaniel and threw her arms around his neck one more time. "I missed you, Daddy."

"I missed you, too, Evie. I'll see you in a few minutes, ok."

"Ok, love you!" she she giggled up at him as she dashed toward her room. Nathaniel and Neria smiled softly as they watched their daughter dash out the door.

"This is how it should be," Neria said softly, looking up at her husband after a few moments of silence. "You are her father in every way that matters. Anything else would just confuse her. You are the only father she has ever known and the only father I care for her to know. All he would do is break her heart."

Nathaniel smiled and drew his wife into his side, kissing her gently on the temple. "I love you, both of you, and I will always be here for you."

"I know, Nate, and that's why I love you. Now, let's go put our girl to bed." She grinned up at him. "The sooner she goes to bed, the sooner we get to."

"Now that sounds like a plan. Come on, let's go."

-0-

That night as the sun set over the Amaranthine sea, Zevran Arainai stood on the prowl of a ship, watching as Fereldan disappeared one last time from view, never realizing that at that very moment, the daughter he would never know was drifting off to sleep, wrapped safely and securely in the arms of another man.

~~FIN~~


End file.
